Mockingjay's in the Meadow
by Catnipisnotonfire12
Summary: ***The Meadow scene from The Mockingjay Epilogue*** "They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs." – one-shot. Obviously KatnissxPeeta – Keeta – Peeniss. I don't own the Hunger Games or any content from the books, all rights to Suzanne Collins. One Shot


"_**They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs." ***_**The Meadow scene from The Mockingjay Epilogue* – one-shot. Obviously KatnissxPeeta – Keeta – Peeniss. I don't own the Hunger Games or any content from the books, all rights to Suzanne Collins. **

_They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. _I sigh as I see them, memories of the past building up in my head – waiting to explode. Peeta's arms were around me before I even realised I needed comfort;

"After ten years, with two children and no threat hanging over our heads – anyone would think that you'd be happy," I smiled weakly.

"I'm happy Peeta, truly. But these scars are too deep to be healed by merely time – no matter how much of it has passed," He brushed a stray piece of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

"I know Katniss, but we have to enjoy the rest of our life. We need to. For their sakes, if no one else's." He glanced over to our children – sweet little four-year-old Primrose Rue who's running for her little toddler life, Cinna Finnick chasing her with a huge smile on his two-year-old face – often tripping over his own feet.

"As well as our sanity's sake," I tell him – looking up at him.

"Exactly. No games, wonderful children, each other – what more could we ask for?" He asked me, though my list was so long it would take me till Prim and Cinna were twenty for me to complete telling it.

"For the scars to heal." I state, trying to keep it short. He sighs, but I can tell he's smiling weakly.

"Time is the greatest healer, Katniss – as well as our only healer under the circumstances. We can never bring the dead back, but we can move on. For _them_, Katniss." The way he says them makes me sure he's not talking about our children anymore.  
"They all fought valiantly alongside us to bring about a better era, we can't sulk forever." He had a point there, but somehow they didn't make a dent in my mood.

"I wish that we weren't the leaders. The 'spark'. One day we're going to have to dig out long forgotten memories to tell to our children, they'll learn of us in school, Peeta – we can't hide it." He laughed quietly.

"Why hide it? It's a part of history I never want to forget." He promised, and I had a feeling – beneath all the heart-ache – he was telling the truth.

"Even the rebellion?" He tensed, and I clung onto him – in case he was having a flashback.

"Even the rebellion," he choked out – which, for some reason, made my heart leap.

"Mummy!" Prim came bumbling towards us clutching something in her sweaty palm.

"Daddy!" Cinna was on her tail, hurtling forward – Peeta readied his arms, knowing that one of them, if not the both of them, was going to stop so suddenly they'd fall flat on their face.

Both of them, after being helped up of Peeta's arms, stretched their hands wide open – and my stomach did summersaults.

Prim had found a flower. Not just any flower, but one with beautiful white petals and a brown-and-purple centre. The kind of flower that, not fully bloomed, looks like an arrowhead.

"Aww honey, you found a Katniss root." I cooed, trying to hide the pain in my cracked voice.

"Mummy root!" She exclaimed, beaming proudly.

"I'll try and put it in a stew later," Peeta offered – but Prim frowned, pulling the root closer to her chest.

"No! Mummy root mine!" I laughed genuinely at her.

"Don't worry, the root's all yours Prim." My voice thick with authenticity – for once I wasn't hiding the hurt that filled me day after day.

We turned our attention to our son. "And what have you found, Cinna?" Peeta asked – smiling at the chubby infant.

"Feva" he tries to say, but what when I see what's in his palm – my heart skips a beat. A feather, black as the coal in District Twelve's mines, with white spots cleaner than the surfaces of District one.

"Where did you get that feather, sweetheart?" I asked him, curiosity domineering my voice.

"Ova der," He begins to run off into the forest, Prim, Peeta and I hot on his tail. We didn't have to go far before a huge array of Katniss roots and plants are all around – surrounded by singing birds.

I sing a four note tune, and, sure enough – the birds copy it.

"Mockingjays," Peeta breathes – the swarm singing the tune.

"I swear I've heard that before," Peeta tells me – I cling to him.

"Rue's lullaby," He falls silent after muttering; "Oh..." Cinna turns around to stare at me with wide blue eyes.

"Mawkinjai" I laugh at his attempt to say Mockingjay.

"Mockingjay Cinna, Mo – ck – in – g – Jay, Mockingjay," He laughs a high pitch toddler squeal.

"Mockingjay," Prim says, clear as a bell.

"What are Mockingjays?" She adds, smiling at a rather small bird.

"Well, when you sing – if they think you're good enough, they'll copy you" Her face lights up at once.

"Parrots?" I bite my lip before telling her;

"Sort of like Parrots, except Mockingjays are much smarter – and they replicate songs, not words, they're more like JabberJays. I'll tell you the story, one day," _Yes, if I ever get the time after telling you about Panem's history. _

Prim throws her head back and mimics Rue's lullaby so easily it scares me – and the song bounces around the clearing. She clapped her hands rapidly, a toothy smile painted on her face.

Cinna plucked another Katniss plant and threw it at Prim, she screamed before throwing one back – wet soil from where it'd been pulled right from the roots spraying everywhere, tangling in my braid. Peeta softly picks it out as the two toddlers chase each other again, laughing in high-pitched glee.

"Don't play too rough now," Peeta tells them – but I just sigh softly into his chest.

"There are much worse Games to play," he sighs with me as we're pulled back into memories that we each wish we hadn't been through, though deep down I'm almost glad I've lived them – and I'm sure Peeta is too.

"True. You'll have to teach Prim to hunt," I shudder at that sentence, automatically thinking of my long-passed sister with a bow, pinning down game before they've even realised they're being targeted.

"And you'll have to teach Cinna to bake," I tell him. The words feel so out of context as I picture my Games-Stylist Cinna with a chef's hat and apron, producing batches of cheese buns and Cinnamon Rolls, laughing endlessly at the corny joke that his name is in the word 'Cinnamon'.

I sigh as I stare at our children, and murmur to Peeta; "they have no idea they're playing on a graveyard. A battleground. An ex-bombsite," He kisses my forehead before softly answering;  
"They'll know. One day, they'll know – and they'll know the stories behind it too. They'll know about their brave mum while their dad was losing his mind," I clung to him for a moment.

"You weren't losing your mind, Peeta. It wasn't your fault, besides – you went through some serious pain physically and mentally," he stiffened for a moment, before relaxing again and sighing. "I think we both did, as well as emotionally," he kisses me for a while – and once again I'm lost in a world where it's just Peeta and I.

"Yuck!" I hear from behind, as I see Cinna and Prim shuddering in disgust as they see Peeta and I kiss, distracted from their original game.

Peeta automatically gets up and scoops Cinna into his arms.  
"You'll be doing that to a girl one day," Cinna wrinkles up his face in disgust.

"No way! That's yucky!" He exclaims as I take little Prim's hand.

"And you'll be doing the same to a boy. Don't protest! I know it sounds gross Prim, but you will, honest." Prim rolled her eyes, obviously trying to act like the big sister – which is pretty tough, for a four year old.

"Sure mummy," I looked towards Peeta, who was grinning at me.

"You two go play for a bit," I tell them – I needed time with Peeta. My mood was foul, as my heart was still heavy from thinking of the games. The Mockingjays and Rue's lullaby had really hit home.

"Mummy, can we have a pet Mockingjay?" Prim asked – staring at the far-off black-and-white song birds.

"No sweetie. They roam free." She sighed, till Peeta added;

"We can always visit them here though," Her features lit up as she begun hurtling towards the closest Mockingjay – which was a good twenty metres.

We watched them play for a while, Peeta cradling me as I snuggled close into his chest.

"Katniss, you love our children. Real or not real?" My heart stopped, was he really asking me this?  
"Real!" I promise him, but he didn't look like he was having a flashback – in fact he was smiling.

"And you love me, real or not real?" I raised my eyebrows before promising him;

"real,"

"And you love the life that no goes on throughout the day, no Games, no Snow, no Peacekeepers. Real or not real?" I go for the hatrick.

"Real," He grins wider.

"Exactly. So – mission accomplished. Life is wonderful, and those that have died by the Capitol's hand – they've all played their part. Even those whom we don't know, such as people from the very first Games – the dark days. They've all helped build up to this moment, so don't wallow in misery Katniss. Appreciate what we have, each other, our children, and a wonderful life."

I couldn't answer that. I couldn't argue, I couldn't just agree. There was no answer to such a magnificent speech – except three little words, that is.

"I love you," I told him, before pulling the boy with the bread into a long, meaningful kiss. He was right, I had everything – and that was more than I deserved. I'd been used to being selfless all my life, that whenever I did something for myself I felt the most like selfish being on the planet – but now it's my time to enjoy life with my family and friends. My time to stop worrying.

Sure, we'll tell them one day. But when that day comes, I won't dread it. I'll live it all again with Peeta by my side.

But till then, I'm just going to enjoy life – because what's the point wasting the brief sneeze of time you have on this earth?

**OK, awful ending. Awful story in fact – I'm just bored so there's probably alot of mistakes I've not noticed – but please review, netherless! ~KatnissMellarkD12 **


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